Survival of the Fittest
by LadyDivine91
Summary: When London is hit by some adverse weather, demon and angel are left wondering what to do to occupy their time while they ride out the storm. Aziraphale x Crowley


_**Notes:**_

_**Written for Drawlight's '31 Days of Ineffables' prompt 'ice storm'.**_

"Unusual weather we're having," Aziraphale muses, peering out the window of Crowley's flat.

Or _trying_ to.

A layer of ice over an inch thick has completely obscured the glass – no small feat since the windows in Crowley's office are floor to ceiling and cover the entire wall.

"I'd say so," Crowley agrees. "Wonder how my car's farin'. Can't see anything past all this." He'd had the bright idea of melting a hole in the ice for them to peek out of, but Aziraphale objected, afraid his demonic heat would separate the ice from the glass, causing it to slide off in one sheet, and pummel some innocent bystander below.

Crowley hadn't considered that.

Now he's _dying_ to give it a go!

"Did your side do this?" Aziraphale asks.

"Not that I know of. Yours?"

"I don't believe so. I suppose it could just be adverse weather."

"Adverse weather that shuts down a city like London? Pfft. Sounds like your side all right …"

Fierce blue eyes snap Crowley's way, filled to the brim with a heat that almost evaporates the ice straight from the glass. "M25, _thank you very much_."

"Ngh. Proves nothing." Crowley puts a palm to the window, hoping to find a way to implement his melting plan secretly, but pulls back with a hiss. To his human façade, it's simply chilly. But to the serpent underneath, it burns like …

Well, like Hell!

"Bad weather happens," Aziraphale defends.

"But an ice storm in Mayfair?" Crowley shoves his hand under his arm to sort out the pain. "That's just …"

"Unusual."

"Quite."

Aziraphale sighs. "I guess that means I'm not going to the bookshop today."

"Why so glum? You wouldn't be having any customers today anyway. They'd go skating right past your door." Crowley snickers. That's something he'd be willing to fight the elements to see - sitting by Aziraphale's front windows with a brandy in his hand as the few humans stupid enough to brave the cold slide down the street like penguins in their bloated puffer coats, screeching as they fly by.

"Exactly! I'd finally get the chance to catch up on my reading with _no interruptions_!"

"You can read here."

"Yes, but I didn't expect _this_, did I? So I didn't bring any books with me!"

"Wha-? You have _two whole bookshelves_ of your own in the bedroom!"

"But those aren't the books I wanted to read _today_! And definitely not ones I want to read during a _natural disaster_!" Aziraphale glares at the ice in front of him steely enough to crack it in half. He shifts left and right, squinting in an attempt to make out anything in the way of shapes. Since color has disappeared, the ice must be getting thicker. How much thicker can it get, he wonders, before it breaks way? And will it take the windows along with it? "But I guess they'll have to do. What else are we to do, iced in like this?"

Standing beside him, hand still tingling from the ice, Crowley gives Aziraphale's question some serious thought.

And comes up with a plan.

"The only thing we can do," he says gravely. "_Survive_."

Aziraphale shoots him a sideways look. "What _are_ you talking about?"

"We're trapped, aren't we? Cut off from the outside world …"

"You have a cellular phone," Aziraphale points out. "And since I saw you checking the weather forecast on it a moment ago, I wouldn't say we're _cut off_."

"_Cut off from the outside world_," Crowley repeats with stern emphasis. "Who knows when this ice will melt? We might be stuck here for days. Possibly even _weeks_."

"_Really_." Aziraphale crosses his arms, leans away and stares, convinced this could be the beginning of a mental disorder on his husband's part. Is this what happens to demons in the cold? Or is this just _his_ demon?

"We'll start with the basics," Crowley says, pacing to keep Aziraphale from glimpsing the grin quirking his lips. "Focus on staying warm. Quick! Strip off your clothes!"

Aziraphale's eyes nearly pop from their sockets. "_Why_?"

"We need to conserve our body heat!"

"By removing our clothes? That seems a bit counterproductive."

Crowley grabs his hand, dragging him away from the windows and down the hall. "We'll go back to the bedroom! Huddle together under the covers and share our warmth!"

"You have a fireplace! _And_ central heating!"

"It may not be enough to keep us from freezing to death."

"Freezing to death?" Aziraphale chortles, finally catching on. "We're _supernatural_!"

"And you're a party pooper! Off with your clothes! Quick! Who knows how much time we've got!"


End file.
